It Happened One Night
by Demosthenes23
Summary: The zombie army was real! Rated M for graphic violence. Do not read if you're squeamish. At least one character death.
1. Chapter 1

**I think I've officially run out of ideas...:p**

* * *

Everyone had been wrong about what Bates had been up to, everyone except for George. He had seen the real truth behind the madman's actions and it was this firm belief in the unbelievable that had saved them, had saved everyone. Well, almost everyone. As with any war, there were casualties. Most of them had been civilian related but there were a few fatalities from the constabulary. The first of which was one of George's oldest friends, Henry Higgins. Both had gone down to deal with the disturbance, now known as hells gate, and lamentably, none of the lads had been armed. It was utter chaos when they arrived, people screaming and being attacked and eaten all over the place.

There was no time to run back to the station house to grab some fire power so they made due with their batons. After the lads attacked the attackers with a few good whacks to the back and nothing happened, many lost heart and some even fled. George did his best to rally the remaining troops and explain the situation. They stared at him with disbelief even though the proof was right in front of their eyes. Finally they came out of their dazes and were roused past their fear and urged to fight. Making an educated guess he showed them how and with the first zombies head bashed in, they got to work, many screaming war cries as they went about it.

Unfortunately, a zombie came up from behind and bit Henry half through his neck. Henry screamed terribly, a bloodcurdling scream that to this day would be forever burned in his mind. George watched in horror as Henry collapsed and the undead creature continued to devour him, ripping into his stomach cavity and pulling out his intestines. In the few seconds that this went down in, George made his way over to the devil, nimbly dodging other fiends, and kicked it in the head with his heavy duty police issued boots. The mans face caved inwards and the zombie fell backwards still stirring feebly. George stomped on its head a few times, well and truly putting an end to its disgusting existence and then turned to kneel down by his dying friend.

He took his hand and held it tight and was surprised when their eyes met and Henry said in garbled barely intelligible words, "Looks like you were finally right, George."

Henry died before he could respond and George cried out in a primal way, directing the attention of both comrades and zombies. They were all infuriated by his death and as such launched into a blood lust and more savagery than was warranted. This in turn resulted in mindless behaviour, mimicking their adversaries, which caused another death from the constabulary as they were not paying proper attention to the dangers around them. Somehow they persevered and took out the rest of the zombies present. Still, George knew there were more out there somewhere and it wouldn't hurt to have a gun this time so as to avoid getting too close and personal again.

Blood spattered and emotionally hurting they made their way back to the station house, George taking a side route to check on Emily. It was a good thing too for not a second after he arrived outside the morgue, than a creature almost took a bite out of her! Reacting purely on instinct he launched himself at the zombie and knocked it over. Even before they hit the ground it's jaws were chomping, attempting to break through his succulent flesh. And it very nearly succeeded, ripping through a patch of his cotton uniform before George had a chance to push off of it and viciously whack in its skull.

Emily stared in shocked silence as she took in what he just did and the sight of his dishevelled appearance and hate filled eyes.

"George," she said nervously with a hand on his shoulder.

He flinched at the contact and almost attacked her before he realized who she was.

"You just killed a man," she said slowly, letting the words wash over her.

"He was no man."

"George?"

"I'll explain in a little while."

She nodded as though this was perfectly acceptable.

"Are you all right? Are you injured at all?"

"I'm fine," he grunted.

"Are you quite sure?"

"Yes!" he snapped. "Now come along Emily," he said grabbing her by the arm and half dragging her, "we need to regroup at the station house!"

"George, let go! You're hurting me! You're scaring me too!"

Something in her voice broke through his fog filled mind and he released his grip on her and blinked a few times. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I don't know what came over me."

Suddenly he broke down and started sobbing into her bewildered embrace and she just held him, eyes darting around constantly, wondering what the hell was going on.

Eventually he pulled himself together and they pushed their way through a growing throng of people outside the station house only to be accosted by a more irate than usual Brackenreid.

"Crabtree! What the bloody hell is going on! The lads aren't making any sense!"

George didn't respond and instead punched him in the face! Brackenreid stumbled back a few steps both from shock and the force of the blow.

"George!" exclaimed Emily.

"Crabtree, what the hell?!"

George attempted to pummel him but two of the other lads grabbed a hold of him and held him back.

"Are you off your nut, son?" bellowed the inspector, rubbing his jaw.

"It's your fault!" George screamed, trying to break away.

"What's my fault?!"

"Henry's death!" he cried, voice suddenly very hoarse.

The colour drained from the inspectors face.

"Bloody hell," the inspector said quietly, sitting on the edge of a desk, staring blankly ahead of him.

"If you had let me break out the armoury like I wanted, this _never_ would have happened! But you were too pig headed to believe me about the zombie army and now he's dead! Henry's dead!"

All the strength left his body and he started to sob anew, Emily coming to his aid once more, holding him close, face stricken as well.

Except for George's anguish, an evil silence pervaded the space until the cries of the citizens outside broke through their troubled minds.

Inspector Brackenreid snapped to attention and said, "His death was a terrible tragedy...but we still have work to do! There are more...zombies to be taken care of. So let's break out the armoury and get to it! Try to stay in pairs..." his voice trailed off, with a quick glance at George. "I want reports every half an hour until this thing has been taken care of!"

Many looked anxious about the prospect of going back out there again but they nevertheless headed in the direction of the armoury. George couldn't muster the strength to follow his comrades and simply continued to settle into Emily's embrace.

That is until Dr. Ogden came bursting through the side door and exclaimed, "Has anyone seen William?!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Apparently there's still interest in this so I shall continue it. :) Forgive my shameful neglect.  
**

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Inspector Brackenreid was thoughtful for a bit. "Murdoch was talking to that dodgy bloke- that medicine man before he left here. I'd say it's a fair bet he went back to the prison."

"And you let him go alone?!" shrieked Julia, grabbing the inspectors lapels.

Thomas shrugged her off. "I didn't bloody well _let_ him do anything, doctor! He's supposed to keep me updated on his goddamn findings! I would have made him take backup if I had known of his idiotic intentions!"

"Well, we have to go find him then!" she yelled. "Come on!"

No one moved a muscle, except to share a look or two.

"What are you waiting for?!"

"I'm afraid I can't spare the manpower. Murdoch's on his own."

_On his own? Thomas would only be this cold if something unfathomable is occurring!_

Julia gave him an incredulous look. "What's going on here! What's happening to Toronto?! Why is everyone panicking?" Her own heart thudded with the word.

As if he hadn't heard her. "I've got to get in contact with the wife, the mayor and the other station houses, and coordinate our men. Crabtree..." he glanced away, "Dr. Grace can fill you in."

Without another word the inspector whipped into his office and slammed the door.

"Emily?"

In the usual deadpan way her protege said, "It's going to sound ridiculous, Julia, but all indicators point towards Haitian zombies."

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Surely Emily was playing a joke on her? What did George have to say? Only then did she notice how drained and out of sorts the constable looked. And only then did she see that he was covered in a considerable amount of blood (and what appeared to be bits of human) from head to toe!

Julia's eyes bulged out at the sight and she felt faint, like she hadn't since the first day of medical school. She held onto the nearest desk for support.

"George," she said weakly, eyes closed, "why are you covered in blood...and guts?!"

Emily answered for him with a hand on her shoulder. "I think you know why."

_Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!_ she babbled over and over again in her head, sinking into a chair, thrusting her hands into her already messy hair. Some of her clothing had been torn in her struggle to get to the station house through the mob of frantic citizens, completing the disheveled look nicely.

_This can't be happening!_

Thomas burst out of his office, swearing, and swiftly moved passed them and into Murdoch's office.

Julia jumped up. "If what you say is true, then it's all the more reason we need to go to William's aid!"

She looked at George hopefully but his eyes were unseeing. Emily held onto the constable's waist tighter. "George is in no condition to be going anywhere. I'm sorry, Julia."

"Fine!" she snapped. "I'll just go alone then!"

"Don't be daft woman!" boomed Thomas from behind, phone in hand. When she turned around to retort her mouth hung open slightly. The inspector was unusually pale and agitated.

"What is it, sir?" said Emily.

"The goddamn phones aren't working!" he snarled, tossing it on the floor. "All communications are severed!"

* * *

When Murdoch came to he was face first on the cold concrete floor. As he took a deep breath and the blood rushed back into his skull, so too did the pain. A gasp escaped his prone figure and for a second he was afraid this would alert Bates to the fact that he was still alive, and the diabolical man would have one of his unholy creatures finish him off. Then he cocked his head to the side and through blurry eyes realized there was no one else there. Once the blood stopped pounding in his ears, he noticed that it was eerily quiet as well.

After these preliminary checks, the first thing he focused on was the fact that his hat was not on his head. Naturally Bates' sneaky blow had caused it to fall off. To add insult to injury the mad man had apparently stomped on his hat before leaving. It was quite destroyed.

_Oh for the love of...!_ he thought. _That hat was brand new!_

As to why Bates had left him intact, he couldn't even begin to speculate. Whatever the reason, he was just glad to be breathing. He didn't fancy being eaten alive...like that squealing rat Bates had laughingly feed to one of them to demonstrate how well they were under his control.

_Haitian_ _Zombies! How can it be possible? It defies all logic! All science! And God's will!_

With some effort and a groan or two, Murdoch pushed himself upward into a sitting position. Holding onto the prison cell bars for support, he heaved his muscular frame onto unsteady feet. He patted himself down to make sure his body was fully intact, with no bite marks anywhere. In so doing, he discovered the pistol he had brought with him was nowhere to be found.

_Confound it!_

A minute or two sufficed to regain enough strength and he moved forward slowly, cautiously, until he reached the end of the aisle and up the stairs. Murdoch looked for a visible switch that would move the bookcase along its track. None could be found so he felt around the edges of this makeshift door, hoping to find a hidden one. At the end of his search he was rewarded with a click and the bookcase separated from the wall. Murdoch began to push it aside but a hand shot out and grabbed his suit jacket. A bizarre moan accompanied this, like the ones he had heard uttered by the fiends, the ones that filled him with dread. It didn't take much imagination to know what was on the other side. Murdoch tried to pull the hand off but the strength of the fiend was incredible. So instead he gripped the bookcase tight and slammed it back into place. A humans response would have been a cry of pain and to quickly remove their now broken wrist. A zombies response was to keep holding on. With no other option, Murdoch continued to slam the bookcase into its increasingly repulsive hand, getting spattered with blood and flesh until the vile thing severed and he was safe again.

_Safe but trapped!_

Now it was becoming clear why he had been spared. He was a prisoner, powerless to help those he loved! It was a fate worse than death! The thought that something terrible was happening to Julia at this very moment nearly drove him mad. With an iron will he calmed down a bit and began to seriously think.

There were an unknown number of assailants on the other side of this 'door' and throughout the prison as a whole. If there were any human survivors in the vicinity, he couldn't count on their assistance. Nor could he count on George or Brackenreid to come to his rescue. They would be far too busy with taming the city. He didn't even include Julia in this assessment because he couldn't bear to think of her going head to head with one of the undead.

But worst of all, he had no weapon! Nor did there appear to be anything lying around that he could use as one. He knew that there were several items of possible use just outside this lair...but risking direct contact with a zombie was ill advised. Given this ones immense strength he would be mince meat before he fully got out the door. There was only one option left to him. He would have to improvise himself a weapon!

Bracing himself against one side of the railing he painstakingly kicked at a horizontal bar till it gave way and clattered to the ground. With the heavy pipe in hand he took a deep breath, mentally prepared himself for what he must do and then activated the switch.


End file.
